


Escapism

by cruisedirector



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amulets, Ancient History, Bottom Snape, Desire, Gardens & Gardening, Gay Bar, HIV/AIDS, House Cleaning, Legilimency, Letters, Love, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Memories, Muggles, Oracles, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Post - Order of the Phoenix, Potions, Promises, Romance, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing a Room, Sunburn, Touch-Starved, Touching, Travel, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war ends, the world doesn't, and Lupin and Snape aren't certain what can be salvaged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escapism

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to gblvr for telling me to keep going, to ldybastet, seleneheart and bloodraven77 for being constant bad influences, and to zasjah for cleaning it up for me.

Snape's robes attract little attention at the pub in Vauxhall, though Lupin knows that he must have received stares on the street as he passed clubs with names like Action and Crash, filled with muscled men and pretty boys whose music and dancing spill out the doors. Here at the Captain's Sanctuary, the patrons are older, quieter; men come here to drown their sorrows in alcohol as often as to seek partners for dancing or other activities. This place belongs to a generation devastated by the plague that shattered the lives of gay Muggles. Magic might have cured many of them, but of course the wizards could not interfere.

A few pairs of eyes sweep Snape up and down as he walks from the bar toward the table furthest from it, glancing from side to side, his brusque demeanor suggesting that he is looking for a specific person rather than an encounter with a stranger. When he pauses, a hand reaches out to run a finger down the long line of buttons on his sleeve. The owner of the hand grins when Snape turns, but his smile fades quickly at the glare he receives. Yanking his arm close to his body, the tall wizard narrows his eyes and continues his progress through the pub.

Lupin is sitting in the booth nearest the back of the bar, facing the wall, with a drink in his hand and two empty glasses already on the tabletop marked with initials from long before this season. He is alone, and had he not leaned forward to signal for another drink, he might not have noticed Snape making his way through the dark room. Lupin has little doubt that his onetime colleague is looking for him. Even if Severus were the type to come to a place like this -- something Lupin had never considered -- he cannot imagine that such a private man would draw attention to himself in such a manner, peering into Muggle faces, if he did not have a specific goal in mind.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks when the potions master has come near enough to hear without Lupin having to call out. Snape stiffens at the sound of the familiar voice, meets Lupin's eyes and approaches the booth, nodding stiffly, as if he knows the other patrons might be watching and wants to maintain the illusion that this is a planned date rather than a stalking. "I'm surprised to see you here," Lupin continues. "What brings you to this part of London, Severus?"

"I've brought _you_ a drink," says Snape as he sits and sets it down on the table, the familiar stoppered flask which he pushes toward Lupin. "You hadn't forgotten about this when you fled, had you?"

Palming the bottle quickly -- it is against policy to bring in outside liquor, and the bartender may suspect that this is even more illicit -- Lupin tucks Snape's gift away in a pocket and offers an ironic half-smile. "I didn't flee; I left," he corrects. "And thank you for your concern, but there's no need for this. I have a contingency plan."

"That's precisely what I was concerned about." Snape has narrowed his lips and is regarding Lupin with a pinched, disapproving expression. "Surely you know that no Muggle locks will hold you, and a werewolf will sabotage his own enchantments to get free at the full moon?"

"Please believe me, I know everything there is to know about lycanthropy and its effects." Despite the pull of the waxing moon on his blood, Lupin feels tired, so very tired; he has had too much to drink, tonight and the night before and the night before that. "I assure you that I will not be a danger to anyone else, Muggle or wizard."

"What about to yourself?"

Shifting his glance away from the fierce dark eyes, Lupin shrugs, gesturing at his face which bears the marks of his own violence from years earlier. "I've been that before. You were always more worried about your own skin, weren't you, Severus?"

Bending his knuckles, he makes his hand into a claw and mimics slashing first his own face, then Snape's. The other wizard does not flinch, though he shakes his head slightly at this silliness, frowning when Lupin smiles. "What is it that you think you're doing?" he asks. "Running away from the magical world, hiding among Muggles? The war is over. We won. What can you be so afraid of that you'd put the lives of countless people at risk just to stay away from Potter and the others who foolishly continue to worry about your welfare?"

"Did Harry send you to find me?" sighs Lupin, which earns him a scoffing noise.

"Potter believed that if you were determined to go off on your own, then it was our responsibility to let you go. No matter what he may have accomplished, he is still very much a child in certain respects. If George Weasley hadn't noticed you by chance, coming in here the other night, none of us would have known where you were." Briefly Lupin wonders what George was doing in this part of Vauxhall, and what it must have cost him to tell his parents or whoever else he alerted to Lupin's presence. "You haven't answered my question. Why are you hiding among Muggles?"

The bone-deep weariness makes it difficult for Lupin to lift his head, take a sip of his drink and meet Severus' eyes. The other wizard will not leave until his question has been answered to his satisfaction, so they might as well get this over with. "Magic hasn't really been a source of joy in my life," he mutters. "It made me into this creature you and everyone else despise. It cost me Sirius. Your magic can't do anything that matters -- it can't cure lycanthropy, feed the starving, silence the wicked or raise the dead, can it?"

"You have seen magic do all those things," sneers Snape. "Werewolves no longer die in agony under the knife, having their hearts cut out. Magic can provide food for a thousand people when there is bread only for a handful. And I think you know that magic can raise the dead, though the consequences are so ghastly that those of us who have been fortunate enough to be educated" -- Snape puts particular emphasis on the word -- "know better than to attempt such a thing."

"You'll have to forgive me if I'm not feeling very lucky at the moment. Don't misunderstand: I'm delighted that the world is safe from Voldemort. But I no longer have a home, I have no job, I've become a burden upon everyone I care about..."

"So instead of going to the Headmaster, reminding him that you were a vital member of the Order and demanding that your position be restored, or coming to me to point out that since I am the reason you can no longer teach at Hogwarts, you require my assistance in securing another position, you ran away and left everyone who cares about you to wonder whether you'd run wild in the woods or gone to join Black."

Carefully Lupin lowers his glass, staring. It is absurd for Snape to suggest that he should have gone begging to Dumbledore, an obvious attempt at mockery, but saying that Lupin should have come to Snape himself...that is so preposterous that Lupin thinks Snape might have meant it. "I didn't realize that you kept track of people who cared about me," he says offhandedly, trying to fathom why Severus would have sought him out if not at Harry's behest or Dumbledore's. "And it really didn't occur to me to throw myself on your mercy. I didn't think you had any."

He does not know what to make of the uncharacteristic expression of concern from Snape -- his second this evening. "You should know that I, of anyone, would never offer you pity."

"No, Severus -- if there is anyone from whom I have never expected pity, it is you." Lupin manages a tired smile. "That's why I can tell you why I left, you see."

"Then please understand that pity plays no role in my motive when I ask you to return with me." Snape can be terribly intense when he issues commands. His small, dark eyes bore into Lupin with surprising fervor. "Return with me," he says again, slowly, changing the emphasis.

"Return to where? I have nothing to return to." Lupin's voice has risen, and he senses heads turning in the direction of their table. Staring at the light reflecting off the glass onto the dark tabletop, he traces a carved initial with his finger and modulates his tone. "Among Muggles, I can get a job -- I can make a living. No one here fears me; no one would believe what I am if I told them. Among wizards, I have no career and no place to live that doesn't depend upon the sympathy of others."

"Stay with me." It's the most outrageous suggestion that Snape has made yet, even more than having mentioned Sirius and suicide in the same sentence. "I have inherited my parents' home. It is quite large, and I only spend time there during holidays."

"I've just told you, Severus, I don't want your pity. Whatever your reasons, I appreciate your taking the time to seek me out but you must have known that I..."

"And I've told you that I would never offer you pity." The words are spoken so forcefully that spittle flies from Snape's lips. "How blunt must I be, Lupin? My reasons are as I have stated. I wish for you to return. With me."

It's as if he said _Lumos_ instead, for now Lupin can see Snape's face clearly and read a meaning there he cannot quite believe. "With you?" he demands, trying not to sound as shocked as he feels. "Severus, you understand that in a few days I am going to transf..." Severus' eyes dart quickly to the side, making Lupin think he wishes to evade the revelation, but then he realizes that Snape is merely trying to remind him of their surroundings. He drops his voice to a whisper. "In a few days, I am going to transform into a wolf."

"Unlike you, I have not completely taken leave of my senses," Snape hisses back at him. "You may want to forget who and what you are, but I assure you that I have not."

"And you want to have me in your house when I become the thing you most despise?"

"You have never understood anything about the things I most despise," retorts Severus, banging his fist on the table where Lupin's fingers have continued to follow the carved initials and words, many of which have undoubtedly lasted longer than those who put them there. It's an old table, old wood; men have been meeting and drinking and sharing secrets here since a time when they might have been imprisoned for doing so. They might have died for it. Watching him, Snape slowly opens his palm, laying it flat on the tabletop. "The war is over. We survived. Now I am asking you: come back with me."

Perhaps it's true; perhaps Lupin has never understood what Snape despises. But he does understand the difference between _we won_ and _we survived_, and he is beginning to understand the subtle difference between _come _back_ with me_ and _come back _with_ me_. This is completely unexpected, a wish he would never have guessed that Snape harbored. He wonders whether it surprised Severus when he discovered it as much as it surprises Lupin himself.

There is much that he may never understand, yet he can imagine what it must have cost Snape to come here and say these things to him. It is a value higher than he would have expected anyone to place on his own welfare, particularly this one. The pub has been emptying slowly; the men who are left, save for Lupin and Snape, are drinking alone, older men scarcely exchanging words with one another as they seek to numb whatever drove them to this place.

Lupin looks across the table at his companion and abruptly decides that it's enough -- even if it's foolish, even if in the end they may both be wrong about what can or cannot be won or forgiven. While he might choose to end his days like the others here, he would not wish it for Severus, after all, and he can spare him so easily: "Yes," he mutters, and at Snape's barely perceptible sigh of relief, "All right, I'll return with you. For now."

The last two words he adds defensively, but Snape seems not to hear them. He offers Lupin the first real smile that Lupin can ever recall receiving from him, a small one, but without the gloating that usually accompanies any expression of pleasure from Snape. Reaching into the pocket with the little flask, Lupin finds and drops some Muggle money onto the table beside the overturned glasses and the ancient carved names.

"Let's go home," Snape says.


	2. Undergrowth

The plants in Snape's parents' yard have grown wildly dense and unkempt, like a Muggle fantasy of a witch's garden. Despite being neglected, the herbs have thrived, producing lush bright blooms even as their roots became long and tangled, so that Lupin cannot always tell where crowfoot ends and celandine begins.

It is summer, the worst time of year to attempt to reclaim a garden. Lupin knows that he should have waited to clear it in late autumn and started fresh plantings in the spring. But Snape has given him the use of the house and he is determined to put it in order as quickly as possible, without the assistance of elves or sympathetic volunteers.

"I could help you with that," Harry had blurted out the first time he visited, not realizing that the words would make Lupin feel ashamed. He knows that Harry fears he might run off again, and probably considers Lupin's staying at Snape's house a form of self-punishment. There has been no occasion for Harry to notice that things have changed between his former professors, old adversaries still trying to work out why they hurt one another for as long as they did. No matter how fast Harry's generation had to grow up, in some ways they still seem quite young, presuming that the uncomfortable silences between the older men must spring from dislike.

Since the night in Vauxhall when he first invited Lupin home, Snape has been cautious, almost embarrassed in his presence. He stays out of Lupin's way as if he had ceded all rights to the house when he suggested that Lupin live there. He visits on the weekends only after being asked if he will come. So far as Lupin can tell, Snape has altered very little in the house since inheriting the property; he treats it more like a shrine to the dead than a cherished childhood home. Lupin had felt that it would be an intrusion to sleep in the late parents' immaculate bedchamber and had instead taken up residence in the room that obviously belonged to Severus, with school essays and rolled Quidditch posters still in the desk.

There was some awkwardness the first time Snape went to set his things down in the room where he expected to retire for the night, only to realize that the wolf had been sleeping in his bed. Neither of them spoke about it, and since then Lupin has slept in the master bedroom whenever Snape has been in the house. But while Snape is at Hogwarts, he stays in the smaller room. He suspects that Snape must know this, and wonders whether Snape feels the same illicit pleasure when he stretches out on the bed that Lupin does from conjuring Snape in that place.

Certain areas of the house, like the dining room and cellar, appear just as pristine in disuse as Snape's parents' room. Yet others, including the library and kitchen, have acquired the look of rooms that get used more often than they get cleaned. Lupin spends an entire morning sorting the jars on the spice rack, discarding and replacing stale contents. It takes two days to reorganize books from the shelves and tables where they have been left in piles. One corner of the garden appears to have been weeded and fertilized while the rest has been allowed to grow out, and when Lupin examines the plants there, he realizes that they are all medicinal: herbs to alleviate pain, seeds with invigorating properties...most of the ingredients of Wolfsbane.

These herbs were not planted recently, for their roots have grown deep. They must have come up each spring for several years. It had not occurred to Lupin that Snape might grow his own ingredients for his potions -- at least the ones he wanted to be certain were of proper strength. It is admirable, thinks Lupin, and sad at the same time that Snape trusts others so little and has had so few hobbies outside of his work.

Other than the conversation at the pub when Snape asked Lupin to stay, nothing has passed between them that could be construed as intimate. Lupin wonders sometimes whether Snape reached out to him only to bring him back into the wizarding world, where the threat a werewolf represents can be contained and where Snape has found ways to make him useful helping with difficult potions and occasionally difficult students. But each time Lupin has begun to resent this and tried to speak to Snape about it, he has seen something in the dark eyes akin to fear. It is not the straightforward dread of a werewolf unleashed upon the Muggle world, but the sorrow of personal loss...the same loneliness that had driven Lupin to London. He knows that Snape did not invite him to live here only to control a onetime adversary, and the resentment fades.

They share the house companionably, taking meals together, working side by side on repairs, sitting in the library to read in the evenings. But there have been no discussions of the past or future. Owls arrive during the week, sometimes purposefully -- carrying seeds, or a list of ingredients to rid the house of termites -- but sometimes at random, with tea and desserts from Hogsmeade that Snape's notes claim he thought might have been lacking in the pantry. The notes have grown longer too, though they could easily communicate via wand or floo if they wished to speak face to face.

Lupin has found himself laughing out loud reading descriptions of calamities in the potions classroom, and he has taken to writing to Snape in the evenings in far more detail than is necessary about his failures at pest control, for he has been adopted by the rats that live in the cellar as well as two cats who cannot be bothered to chase the rodents but are happy to share Lupin's food. He writes about Harry's visits, too, though he knows that Snape will never forgive James Potter's son for looking so much like his father. Hermione Granger is teaching arithmancy at Hogwarts and Snape surprised Lupin once by bringing her to the house for dinner; when her Gryffindor friends are not with her, Snape finds her intelligence quite refreshing.

Bending, Lupin tugs at the roots of a particularly pernicious weed. There are spells, of course, that would make it easier to prune the garden, but he prefers to do this by hand: there is no hurry, and his herbology professors always insisted that plants responded best to individual attention. The process may be slow but he can sense the results, for the sweet smells of mint and sage have already permeated the kitchen and are slowly moving through the rest of the house, displacing the odor of mothballs and dust. Some days it is difficult for Lupin to see any progress, but when Snape arrives he always notices the changes in his absence and he always expresses appreciation for the improvements if not the effort involved.

That, Lupin thinks, is its own reward; to make Severus smile, however fleetingly, is something few people can do. He would try more often but he is afraid of upsetting the balance. They have only just learned to give one another space, thoughts, quiet; it is too soon to offer laughter, secrets, touch. Still, he thinks about it, and he guesses that Snape thinks about it too, in the bed they share but never at the same time.

In the late afternoon Snape arrives to bring aconite back to Hogwarts from the garden. Lupin spells the kettle to heat and they sit together with their tea on the bench in the yard, looking at sheep on a distant hill.

"I had wondered whether you could teach me to make Wolfsbane," Lupin ventures, shifting on the hard wood of the seat. "I wasn't a bad potions student, you know. You would gain back the time you spent teaching me by not having to make it every month."

"Wolfsbane is a very complicated potion. It would be foolish to take unnecessary risks," replies Snape. Laughing softly at the familiar condescension in the tone, Lupin shrugs acquiescence, causing Snape to glance at him with an alarmed expression, as if it has only just occurred to him that his words may have sounded like an insult. "I do not resent the time it takes to brew. A lack of precision will render the potion ineffective or lethal."

"Then wouldn't it be wise to be certain that someone other than yourself is up to the task, in case you are ever unavailable?" Narrowed eyes are now assessing him, and Lupin wonders whether Snape had taken his request to be a bid for independence from needing the potions master's skills. "I wouldn't presume to interfere; I know that you've made improvements in the formula over the years. Perhaps I could help prepare the ingredients in advance."

Slowly Snape nods. "I suppose it would be wise to let you observe, should a time come when I require your assistance."

"Thank you, Severus. I would like to assist you." Another sharp glance follows as Snape searches his face for mockery; then he relaxes slightly and drinks his tea. "I'm sure there are other potions I could brew for you while you're teaching. If you'd like help with any..."

"I have been considering whether to resign my post at Hogwarts." The announcement is so unexpected that Lupin does not respond, waiting for some explanation, but there is only silence for several minutes. "You do not approve?"

"I'm just surprised. I thought you enjoyed the work." But Lupin has never really thought about whether Snape is happy teaching. He knows that Snape likes the prestige of his position as Head of Slytherin House and takes pride in the potions themselves; he thinks that when Snape concentrates on a particularly difficult concoction, it occupies so much of his mind that he forgets the past and future, focused on the satisfaction of a successful task. With Voldemort gone, Lupin had thought that perhaps Dumbledore would let Snape teach Defense Against the Dark Arts -- something he has wanted for many years.

And Lupin has wondered whether Snape takes any real pleasure in interacting with students, which had been his own best-loved aspect of teaching. Perhaps it is not lessons but living at Hogwarts of which Snape has grown weary.

"What will you do?"

"I would prefer to spend more time in research. There is always work available for skilled potions masters in specialty brews and private stores. And I have thought that I might like to go abroad."

A flutter of disappointment tightens Lupin's belly. For a moment he had entertained the thought that Snape might share the house with him, perhaps even share his work. With the struggle behind them, he guesses that Snape is as uncertain about the future as himself. "You want to go away? For how long?"

"Perhaps the summer holidays, to start," Snape tells him. Then, almost as an afterthought: "You could come with me."

"I have very little money."

"I will of course compensate you for the work you have done here. And I would prefer not to travel unaccompanied."

This is as transparent a declaration of Snape's wishes as Lupin could dare to demand, and yet he wants more -- he wants Snape to say that he wants _his_ company, to express the desire to see more of the world with _him_. Briefly he wonders whether there is any place they can go where the past will not travel with them, an intruder in every room. He takes a sip of his tea and considers that at least, outside of London and Hogsmeade, it might be easier to forget.

But Lupin has never taken a long trip for reasons Snape should be able to guess: the risk of discovery at the full moon by an elf or a housekeeper or some other unexpected visitor is too great. Under the influence of Wolfsbane, Lupin is not even able to defend himself.

"Do you really think it wise to travel with a werewolf, Severus?"

"Surely it would be safer to bring you along than to leave you to your own devices." The voice is harsh and contemptuous, yet Lupin feels himself beginning to smile at Snape's refusal to be deterred. "I will be certain that you are safe."

"Safe for other humans, or safe from them?"

"You are safest from them when they have no reason to perceive you as a threat," Snape insists crossly, tugging at the sleeve over the now-faded Dark Mark on his arm. "And if you went abroad, no one would need to know. But I understand that you may not wish to travel..."

"I do want to go with you, Severus. I just wanted to be certain that you wanted to go with me."

The look that Snape gives him suggests that Lupin may be too foolish to make an appropriate companion, though it is followed by a small, embarrassed nod. They are both quiet after the interruption while Snape finishes his tea and Lupin studies his own handiwork among the dense plants. The hardiest herbs are all useful to a werewolf -- to bring on sleep, to soothe strained muscles -- the aconite Snape has arrived to collect might very well be for the Wolfsbane potion. Severus has been quietly offering him such gifts, with Lupin's own contentment his only recompense.

"The garden will become a tangle again if we leave for the rest of the summer," he observes, linking his fingers through Snape's as if to demonstrate. "Next season we may have to start over."

"Perhaps that would be best," agrees Snape, glancing down at their hands.

Then, Lupin understands, this will no longer be Snape's parents' garden, but their own. And if they return here together from elsewhere, no matter how much work remains to be done, it will be a homecoming for them both.


	3. Parched

Whatever is to blossom between them, it cannot begin in Paris, though Paris is the city of light and lovers. The weight of expectation is too great, and everyone else along the Seine seems young or elegant or carefree and sometimes all at once. Snape wears his robes like armor and Lupin feels the stares of strangers on his scars as if he were an exotic animal prowling the riverbank. They are tense and formal with one another, not meeting each other's eyes as they drink excellent wine and walk without touching through the once-upon-a-time world of the Faubourg Saint-Germain.

Nor can anything grow in Venice, where the bright aching glare of the sky on the canals makes their heads grow heavy. Though they are staying in a beautiful 16th century villa on the river from which they ride the waterways to reach Saint Mark's Square, the crowded mazes of tourists and the stench of the city at low tide make them restless. They move on without visiting the maggazini of the ancient fruit market where wizards slip among the Muggles hawking rare potions and herbs, without studying the secret magical messages carved innocuously into the arched bridges connecting the islands.

Their resistance unravels layer by slow layer like the heavy winter clothes they shed as they travel south. The final pieces are the hardest to peel away from the skin. Each knows that the other will have scars, ugly marks of age and reminders of unnatural pasts which might draw the revulsion of strangers as well as potential intimates, yet the knowledge that neither is unblemished does not make it easier to share their truths. It is not until they leave Europe for lands where the languages and local costumes become less familiar that they stop sleeping in full nightclothes, tossing and sweating in the warmer weather.

Only after they reach the ruins of Egypt does recent history begin to fade. Here, where the sun and sand burn their skin and sear their throats, they follow a route taken for centuries by Muggles and wizards alike. Sorcerers whose names have been forgotten led ancient kings to leave their marks on a land that eluded them, for the monuments are still here but the civilizations have crumbled. Their own lives seem miniscule, specks of sand among millions, though Lupin wonders why it should be any different than in England where wizards have risen against the dark since before the Dark Ages, even before the time of legend. It is easy in the desert to imagine a time when the name of Voldemort will be spoken as a curiosity if it is remembered at all.

They sit together on the divan near the window at twilight, with the wavering music of a flute drifting in on the breeze. Their teacups lie forgotten on the table and Snape's book slides to the floor. "Leave it," he murmurs when Lupin, turning his head at the sound, reaches to pick it up. By then Snape's fingers have found his own and it is obvious from the plea in his voice that _leave it_ means _no distractions this time, just kiss me_, so Lupin does, wondering how many times before he has missed the invitation because Severus asks for such things so subtly.

At his age it is a thrill to discover that one kiss -- even the thought of one kiss -- can still leave him breathless, and he feels a shiver move through Severus that surely can't be from the warm wind. Their lips are so dry that they scrape against each other, yet Lupin thinks it is right that this should be the moment -- not in a romantic niche behind a pillar at the Piazza dei Signori, not in a quiet corner of the gardens of the Generalife, but in an unremarkable inn after an uneventful day of travel. Slow, tentative movements guide their embrace, for the sun and sand have left their skin so tender that caution is necessary. There are potions that could remedy this but it would seem that Snape has forgotten his skills in that regard, for he does not stop to fetch one.

They are awkward and clumsy, not yet comfortable enough to laugh about it, and still the kissing is hypnotic. Severus' lips speak eloquently of want without any words, only the lightest of touches. Even when he hisses from friction against his chafed flesh, he does not let go.

"Hand me my wand," whispers Lupin, keeping his arms around Snape rather than risking the possibility that he will believe he is being pushed away. When the wood is pressed into Lupin's fingers he summons a bottle, drops the wand and begins to rub sweet healing oil into Severus' reddened skin. Gleaming dark eyes watch him in the fading dusk, and Lupin sees that although he has been afraid of rushing, there are risks as well in waiting too long.

In this country, among Muggles, it is a crime for two men to touch the way he wants to touch Severus. Attraction and fear must surge together until one overwhelms the other. How often does love evaporate in such a climate? Too frequently, Lupin guesses, and kisses the peeling forehead and flushed cheeks. The night wind cools their limbs while their fingers share the oil like rain in the desert, mouths coming together, tongues seeking one another in silent communication.

Neither speaks again until the music begins once more, high and sad. "We should go back to the sea," Severus says softly, eyes shut, lips parted and glistening.

"The Red Sea? Or the Mediterranean?"

"The North Sea. The air will be cooler, the wild orchid will be in bloom and the sun in this season sets late and rises early." Without opening his eyes, Severus smiles. Bending to him, Lupin tastes the newly revealed curve of his inner lip, his jaw, the throat that Severus tilts his head slightly to expose, though their hands seem to have reached an agreement to move no lower than their shoulders and arms. Arousal struggles with fatigue and soreness until it becomes clear that they are pushing, that this is not the moment for anything more.

They have time; they are turning for home. Hours later, Lupin wakes with the thin material of Severus' nightclothes damp against his belly and kisses him good morning.

Thus far they have avoided shortcuts, traveling by train and coach and eventually horses, which has given them long stretches of the journey for conversation and for sitting together watching the horizon. Lupin had believed that Snape would be a quiet companion, perhaps even a dull one, keeping his thoughts to himself as has been his habit, but he seems determined to share this experience, and he notices far more about the people and things around them than Lupin would have suspected. He is also knowledgeable about plants and animals, and if he tends toward pessimism -- the natural world can be a violent place -- he is not argumentative when Lupin chooses to be whimsical, attributing human characteristics to animals and animal aspects to humans.

Now they travel by magical means, sweeping across Europe by night and sleeping during afternoons in towns chosen specifically for their isolation. In Greece, nestled in the mountains, they visit the Oracle at Delphi, where Severus summons snakes from the stones and follows them to the source of the sacred spring, though neither of them is moved to prophesy. In France they visit Cordes sur Ciel and Montsegur, where Muggles believe the knowledge of the Cathars was wiped out when in fact it was hidden, with clues in Tarot cards and popular astrology. This is where they belong, the dark, still places in the earth where the Muggle and wizarding worlds both open to ancient magic. Lupin expects Snape to object when he tells him that he wants to spend his mid-month in a cave, drunk on Wolfsbane and the cool damp air deep in the ground, but Snape agrees, setting up a tent outside the entrance and reading all night in the light of the full moon.

Their bodies are impatient for contact and the scant clothing they have worn in Africa and Asia has left little to the imagination. As they move north it grows cool enough at night for them to crave body heat as well. Oils and potions to treat sunburned skin give them plenty of excuses to touch one another, and the parts of their anatomy most urgent for attention have been well-protected from the weather; they surrender to desire helplessly at first, the flood of pleasure an inevitable consequence of so much stimulation, but quickly satiation and gratitude lead to trust and curiosity. They do not join completely, still learning one another's responses, but Severus proves to be so inventive with his hands and tongue that Lupin realizes how often he has settled for what's quick and thoughtless, with strangers, even with Sirius in the end.

Severus can be selfish but he is never thoughtless. When they reach Calais he arranges for a Portkey so that they can bypass London, Hogsmeade, all the places they have already seen together. They go directly to Robin Hood's Bay, a village clinging to a cliff side where secret tunnels and passages connect houses that once hid contraband and criminals -- raiders, smugglers, and suspected witches and wizards. Even now Muggles ask no questions when two men return from a stroll to Ravenscar with their pockets full of wildflowers, nor when the scent of a simmering healing potion drifts from the window of an inn.

The sweet liquid helps Lupin shake off the effects of both lycanthropy and Wolfsbane, and they walk along the cliff top the next day all the way to Whitby. The young visitors there emulating Dracula cannot match Snape's ferocious aura of secretiveness, and Lupin is amused by the glances he attracts as they sweep through the famous churchyard by the ruins of the great abbey. Though Whitby's megaliths have been moved to its museum, there are stone circles older than the Great Pyramid only a few kilometers away.

"How many times," Lupin asks, looking out at the churning waves, "have human beings believed that the world was about to end?"

"At times they have been right," notes Snape. The wind from the sea blows his hair and cloak behind him. He looks fearsome and anachronistic at the same time, a troubled romantic archetype in billowing black; it is only when he cocks an eyebrow that Lupin realizes he is smiling fondly at him. "Is something amusing about that?"

"It's us. It's laughable really. The world didn't end, and we don't seem to remember how not to be afraid."

Severus glances at him sharply, making Lupin think that he has triggered the old defensiveness. He expects to be told that Snape is not afraid. Instead he hears only the surf and the piercing cries of gulls while his companion's expression twists, and Snape reaches into a pocket, drawing out a handful of protective amulets. "I was accustomed to expecting the world to end," he admits in a voice quieter than the sea, turning his hand to let the small charms fall to the ground. "I knew what I wanted to preserve and how to fight for it."

Lupin waits for him to admit what those things were and what he did, but Severus does not continue, looking out over the cliff, closing his eyes when the wind makes them water. He is not speaking of the war. Picking up one of the amulets, Lupin steps toward him, close enough to press the carving into his palm. He wants to say things he knows he cannot voice aloud to such a proud man. "I shouldn't have left," he tells him finally.

"Then don't do it again," says Snape in his professorial voice, but his fingernails bite into the back of Lupin's hand as they close over the amulet. Lupin nods agreement, moving his fingers over Severus' and squeezing until they relax and part, letting Lupin's slide between them.

"I promise."

They are quiet on the trip back to the inn, walking so close together that their sleeves keep brushing. When they sit across from each other at a quiet table in the pub for a late meal, there is again a certain formality between them. It is not like the tension when they first set out, for they are at ease looking at one another, talking about vampires and the ghost of the Abbess Hild, not attempting to hide; yet when Snape pours the wine and offers Lupin a glass, it has the solemn air of ritual. They watch each other drink until Snape drops his eyes, flushing slightly, reminding Lupin of the night in Vauxhall when he could not believe that Severus had come to bring him home.

"I want to take you to bed," Lupin tells him. He had not planned to speak aloud and certainly not in such a throaty, urgent tone, but the moment the words are between them, they begin to operate like a spell. Severus puts down his glass very carefully, reaches into his pocket and places far too much money on the table while Lupin dabs at his newly burning face with his napkin and swallows another gulp of wine, hoping that his legs will agree to carry him upstairs before lunging at Severus like a wild animal.

Only afterward can he explain to himself why he waited so long. It isn't that he couldn't have spoken weeks ago, for he suspects that Severus would have offered sex that first night in London if he had thought it was a condition of Lupin's return. But if he had asked too soon, they would never have reached this inn with the sea breeze blowing through the upper floor windows where Severus moans _hurry_ and _inside me_ and _please_, eyes bright and beseeching but body relaxed in its response, offering everything. Sirius had never trusted him this much, during the war; there had always been that flicker of fear and uncertainty. Here nothing is withheld, not even when the armor of Occlumency slips and they are both flooded with memories and dreams not their own.

They sleep only to wake and do it again, wrapped under the covers against the misty night air. Lying drowsily together, Lupin thinks that Paris would look entirely different if they returned now. They could regard the Swiss clifftops and look on the Eternal City with new eyes, too, but when he asks Severus where they will go next, Severus murmurs, "I want to go home with you."

It has been a rainy summer in southern England: their garden is a maze of color with wildflowers and herbs climbing over one another, and a ceiling leak has flooded Snape's parents' bedroom. It would take only a few spells to reverse the damage, but Severus begins to move the furniture, discarding the rug that has lain at the foot of the bed since before Lupin met him, sweeping his mother's bottles and brushes from the dresser top.

"Not yet," Lupin says when Severus suggests that they should move their things into the larger space. Instead he takes Severus to the room where they have both slept but never together and asks him to share everything he ever imagined doing with him when he lay alone there. As it happens, Severus has a long-suffering, elaborate, sometimes naughty imagination, so days pass before they leave the house again, living temporarily on stale food from the pantry and wine from the cellar. Lupin thinks that the wooden bed built for one will never recover no matter how many charms they use to repair it, yet he is certain that even Snape prefers it with its new dents and creaks.

He spends the night of the next full moon asleep in the cellar and emerges to find Severus uprooting the garden. The potions master is replanting his most important herbs, with the others already spread to dry along the fence. "Can I help?" Lupin asks, and after making certain that he is not tired or in pain and should not be inside resting, Severus leads him to the bench and puts a pitcher of water beside him.

"I can't water the garden from here."

"That is for you to drink," Severus nods shortly. "You can sit there and tell me which of these plants can safely grow in the same plot without this uncultivated disaster arising."

Contrarily Lupin follows him into the dirt and sits beside him, spilling water onto newly planted seedlings while his lover hacks at tangled vines and leaves with an expression of grim satisfaction on his face. "We can grow anything," he promises, turning his face to the sun, "with enough effort, and enough time, and the right ground."


	4. Everything

"I think I'll turn in early," announces Snape with a yawn while Lupin is finishing the cleaning spells in the kitchen after supper. Lupin glances away from the sink in surprise, prepared to ask whether Severus is feeling all right, only to find that he is looking at the back of a long black robe billowing as its owner strides down the hall. Severus has seemed tired all day and a bit on edge. He had chanced upon Lupin flipping through an old photo album and the greeting they shared had not completely disguised his unhappiness and tension.

For a moment Lupin assumes that Severus still must be troubled and turns to pursue him down the hallway. Then Severus whirls, not toward the large bedroom they now share but into the smaller room that belonged to him as a child, now reserved for games of a decidedly adult variety. A smile tugs at Lupin's lips. "I'm just going to finish cleaning up in here," he calls carelessly after Severus, though he slows his efforts, waiting nearly fifteen minutes before following. If he had ever dared to walk into that room while Severus was inside before they returned from traveling together, it would have taken him at least that long to work up his courage.

When Lupin enters he must pause to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Even squinting they can barely make out Severus beneath the covers, knees bent and arms hidden, and he wonders whether he waited too long. In Lupin's version of this fantasy he usually behaves much as Severus did the time Lupin allowed him to catch him naked on the bed; there are variations, but the scenario generally involves barging in on a shamelessly aroused man, threatening punishment, taking control. Now the darkness, the blanket and the hunched form in the bed all make him hesitate. This is Severus' fantasy, not his own, and although his lover has shown great enthusiasm for submitting to discipline and restraint since he and Lupin have been together, he comes here to act out a time before that, when there was no such trust between them.

"What do you think you're doing?" snarls Severus as Lupin hesitates in the doorway, making him jump.

"I'm sorry. You left so very quickly, I thought that perhaps you were upset and I wanted to see..."

"And has your prying satisfied you?" Lupin is certain that the fury in the scowl is feigned, but he has learned to recognize the shades of feeling Severus tries to hide. There is real fear and shame, not at having been caught doing anything illicit, but perhaps at having disclosed that he wanted to be caught. Wherever this scene is going, Lupin doubts it is punishment that Severus desires.

"Please," he says softly, taking a step forward. "Let me in." Severus hunches his body and does not meet his eyes, though he shifts toward the wall, pulling the covers around himself while making room for Lupin to sit on the bed beside him. Cautiously -- as if this were still Snape's private room rather than a place where they have pleasured each other to blissful exhaustion many times -- Lupin perches at the edge of the mattress and peers at him. "I didn't mean to pry, but I wanted to see you."

"To see me," repeats Snape in a disgusted tone, as though Lupin had confessed to a voyeuristic impulse. "Look -- you see me. Is that all?"

"I meant that I wanted to be with you. If you tell me to leave I will, but if you truly wished to be alone, you would have used a locking spell on the door." Severus is performing the scene almost too well -- old resentments and frustrations are starting to surface. "I'm sure you must want something from me, or you'd have made certain that I couldn't approach you."

Snape has no retort to this, and after a moment Lupin shifts his legs onto the bed, moving closer to him. "You knew I wanted to be with you," he continues in a murmur. "Tell me now if that isn't what you want, because if I touch you, I'm not going to want to stop..."

The bed shakes, betraying the shiver that passes through Severus at the words. "Isn't it enough that I've invited you to use my home? Are you planning to use _me_ \-- am I now the most convenient outlet for your lusts?"

Lupin must fight an instinct to recoil as a matter of self-preservation, reminding himself that this is only a scene Snape wishes to perform for reasons of which he is yet unaware. "I wasn't planning to use you at all," he answers, surprised at how wounded his voice sounds. "I thought you must have wanted...well, perhaps I was wrong."

"Thought I wanted to relieve my animal needs with an animal?"

These are words that in a different context would be teasing, warm or suffused with desire, but there is an undertone here that bothers Lupin and again he cannot keep the hurt from his voice. "After all these years, you still can't look at me without seeing a werewolf, can you, Severus?"

"No," comes the reply in an unemotional voice. "But if you believe I have kept my distance from you all these years because you are a werewolf, you are mistaken."

"Oh?"

"I haven't forgotten your penchant for cruelty when we were young."

This is a dangerous game. Lupin could stop it with a single word and for a few seconds is strongly tempted to do so, but this is a charge he has imagined hearing and answering; perhaps this is the safest opportunity that he will ever have to do so. "Severus, that was never _my_ 'penchant for cruelty.' I know Sirius and James were horrible to you -- " He sees fury on Snape's face and does not think that it is conjured only to play a scene. "I'm not excusing myself. I never spoke up in your defense or anyone else's. I let them do it, and even when it went too far and they used me to be cruel to you, I didn't walk away from them. But I hated it."

"I see." Severus' sarcastic tone and tightly pressed lips suggest that, in fact, he does not see, but he nods shortly. "Then...what is this?" He gestures at the bed. "An attempt at absolution? Apology? Compensation? Boredom?"

"Doesn't it even occur to you that it might be attraction? Or a clumsy display of affection? If it's not sex you want from me, I will be quite content to sit here beside you and ask nothing more. But I wanted you to know I would be willing."

Snape keeps frowning as though he believes Lupin thinks he is doing him a favor. "Willing?"

"More than willing. Eager. Delighted, even."

Warm, slightly damp fingers have crept from beneath the covers and are moving over his arm, not quite closing around his wrist. He turns his body, pulling up his knees to bring him closer to Severus, and they kiss as cautiously as if they had never done so before. The mattress is shaking again. Lupin does not believe that Severus can feign trembling and suspects that pride would prevent him even if he wished to do so. It is no longer difficult for Severus to ask to be kissed, touched, fucked, owned -- what is it that he is seeking tonight that frightens him as if they had never been together?

Lupin wonders what he would have done months ago if he had known for certain that he could come in and simply ask to be held without fear of being rejected. There is something of the same thrill here as the time Severus said "Tell me you've never done this before," when Lupin nearly convinced himself as well as his lover that he was a virgin, feeling all the remembered vulnerability and excitement without the terror that if he did something wrong, it would ruin his entire life. This is not really the reverse, for Severus does not kiss like an innocent; his lips and tongue know precisely what they want. Yet he does seem afraid that he will send Lupin running if he moves too quickly or asks for too much.

Taking his face between both hands, Lupin kisses him thoroughly. The covers slip between them, leaving Severus exposed. He lets Lupin move his hands down, returning his embrace, and admits in a hushed tone, "I was beginning to think you would never come in. Or that you would, but it wouldn't be enough."

"You were afraid I wouldn't be enough for you? Or you wouldn't be enough for me? What sort of all-night session did you plan..." Lupin starts to smile, then realizes from Severus' bleak expression that that isn't what he means. "Or did you mean you thought that no matter what, it wouldn't give us what we needed..."

Then he understands, and his breath catches, even as he reads a thought in the dark eyes so clearly that he knows he has been projecting his confusion: _You said "everything."_ And he had. He had asked Snape to share every single fantasy Snape had harbored while alone in this bed, even the ones that were outrageous or flamboyant or, like the virgin scenario, obviously unreal. He had made no attempt to evade any of them. While he suspects that Severus might let him get away with deliberately misunderstanding now, he can still taste the bitterness of their conversation of only a few minutes before, wounds they have never tried to heal.

"Listen," he begins, fumbling for words until he knows what he needs to say, the all-encompassing simple phrase to which neither of them has given voice though they have expressed it in a dozen other ways. Probably Severus is incapable of uttering it first to try to earn it reciprocally, and he would not dare to ask for it in the here-and-now, but this is not now -- this is might-have-been. Lupin gave him permission to demand this when he asked him to share all his wishes.

So he tries again. "Love..." But Severus holds up a hand, and his fingers are steady.

"I want no contemptible endearments."

"It isn't an endearment. I only say that word when I mean everything by it." Severus has opened his mouth to retort to the denial, and his breath catches audibly. For a long moment they stare at each other through the dark before Lupin finds his hand between them, holding it with his own. "I love you."

Lupin is sure that Severus must have had some reply rehearsed for this moment, or perhaps several, for fantasy allows so many possibilities at once. It appears that they have all deserted him along with his voice. He opens and closes his mouth as if his power of speech has been stolen; his fingers lock around Lupin's and pinch a desperate communication that is both reply and plea. His eyes open wide, glittering, and although Lupin's skills as a Legilimens are greatly inferior, his brain suddenly swarms with images.

This room -- a dark-haired boy on the bed with hands over his ears to shut out a hook-nosed man calling him worthless -- Sirius, young, handsome, wearing an expression of brutal contempt, laughing scornfully and pointing his wand -- his own face melting like a vision from a nightmare, fangs emerging with a brutal snarl, while James Potter's voice shouts, "Get back, Snape, you idiot" -- the bared teeth transforming into Lucius Malfoy's triumphant sneer, which hisses, "You didn't imagine that we invited you because we _liked_ you?" -- Harry Potter glaring at his Potions professor in seething hatred -- pain beyond endurance in his arm and everywhere as the Dark Lord smiles and utters an Unforgivable Curse --

The room dims and refocuses in the present. Severus' chest is heaving as if from exertion, and the gleam in his eyes spills down his face when he blinks. He is letting Lupin see his tears, just as he let him see those memories. This is what the word _love_ triggers in him: the recollection of its lack. Even as he is reaching out for Severus, Lupin wonders whether it had the same power to hurt him when he understood it only as an absence.

"Now come here," he whispers, pulling Severus toward him so abruptly that his breath escapes in a moan. They kiss deeply, fully in the moment -- each kiss is a message, bitter and salty and sweet with unsaid feeling. "Tell me what you want," he begs Severus when they break apart to breathe, expecting to be allowed to make love to him, but Severus drops his gaze and holds on urgently as he replies, voice muffled against Lupin's shoulder.

"I want you not to wish you were with him instead of me. I also want to believe you would never forget or take those words back, not even from him." By the end of his first sentence Lupin has tensed, but by the end of the last he is no longer defensive, for he knows how difficult it must have been for Severus to say any of this, whether he is speaking from the heart at this moment or projecting his feelings about Sirius into the past. There have been few apologies between them, for so much has happened in all the years they have known one another and they both have much of which to be ashamed, but Lupin understands that in keeping alive old fantasies, he has also been trying to repair what came before and let Severus do the same -- the shame no longer held at bay or repressed but transformed. _You wanted to know_, he reminds himself as Severus adds, not quite an afterthought, "I want you to say it again."

"I love you, and I will never forget how I felt about him, but I have never wished that I was with him instead of you." It is as impossible to imagine the world now with Sirius in it as it is to imagine his life without Severus, who is still holding him in a way he had once believed Snape would rather have died than admitted he wanted. It makes him braver than he ever was when he was so terrified of losing his friends that he pretended not to notice their cruelty, so he adds, "And I want to live happily ever after."

"Isn't that from a Muggle story?" asks Severus with the barest mocking hint of his familiar scorn.

"It's from several, actually." Lupin chuckles self-consciously. "Usually the people involved get married first."

Severus' head lifts from its hiding place against his shoulder and he stares in the half-light. "You want to get _married_?"

Though Lupin is being regarded with astonishment rather than disgust, he blushes anyway. "We're in the fantasy room, aren't we? I said I wanted everything."

Severus is nodding, also flushed, swiping at his face as if it embarrasses him and shifting back slightly to reclaim his space to talk. After a moment he continues, "But we've done many of the things that started here elsewhere."

"I know we have." A smile twitches at the corners of Lupin's mouth as he remembers an incident in the garden that might have scandalized the community had anyone been able to see. At Severus' inquiring look, he strokes his cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "You haven't cried anywhere else."

Severus turns his face away, though he makes no attempt to escape the fingers which stretch into his hair and comb it behind his ear. "You haven't said...what you said."

"Only because I thought you knew, and it's such a trite thing to say. I suppose I was afraid you'd laugh. Come into the other room right now and I'll say it again, and all the rest besides."

"In a few minutes." Cheeks still so unnaturally red that Lupin can see them in the dimness, Severus ducks his head and nibbles at his wrist. "I'm not finished with you in this bed yet."

"Oh?" And, shifting, Lupin discovers that in addition to being quite flushed, his lover is quite aroused. "You don't happen to have a wedding night fantasy, do you, Severus?"

The irritable answer, "You're the one who brought it up. Now get over here," tells him everything he wants to know.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know exactly what kinky things went on before "Everything," some of it is compiled as ["Sequestered"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/26123).


End file.
